Epitaph for Fire and Flower
by sparrow.marrow
Summary: Martha goes looking for the Doctor in the TARDIS, does a little snooping, and stumbles across a few things she was never meant to see. 10/Rose if you squint through the gloom


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**_Epitaph for Fire and Flower_**

_You might as well haul up  
This wave's green peak on wire  
To prevent fall, or anchor the fluent air  
in quartz, as crack your skull to keep  
These two most perishable lovers from the touch  
That will kindle angels' envy, scorch and drop  
Their found hearts charred as any match._

Dawn snuffs out star's spent wick,  
Even as love's dear fools cry evergreen,  
And a languor of wax congeals the vein  
No matter how fiercely lit; staunch contracts break  
And recoil in the altering light: the radiant limb  
Blows ash in each lover's eye; the ardent look  
Blackens flesh to bone and devours them.

- Sylvia Plath  
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"Doctor?" called Martha, tapping insistently on the blue wooden doors of the TARDIS.

"Doctor, can you hear me?"

There was no resonse and Martha sighed, opening her purse and rummaging around in the bottom until she found what she was looking for: the TARDIS key. Pulling out the key, she slipped it into the lock and smiled as it turned easily with a satisfying click. She stepped inside the dimly lit room. It was exactly as she remembered it, not changed one bit.

Otherworldly pillars rose up from the grated floor casting strange twisted shadows across the glowing console and honeycombed walls. The lights were set low and Martha had to squint to see through the gloom. "Doctor?" As Martha turned and shut the door behind her, the TARDIS lights came up illuminating the room with soft blue light.

"Hello old girl," Martha breathed running her fingers briefly over the console in friendly greeting. She smiled softly as the TARDIS gave a little hum. The Doctor was always going on about how his ship was alive, and sometimes she almost believed him. Pulling back her fingers from the console ledge, she slipped the TARDIS key back into her purse.

"Doctor?" Martha called once again. "I saw the TARDIS from my window. I wasn't expecting to see you so soon," she yelled angling her voice towards the back of the console room. There was no reply. "Not home then," she muttered to herself.

It had only been three months since she had left the Doctor and she really hadn't been expecting to see him so soon, although, there was no telling how long it had been for him, could have been three months, three days or three hundred years for all she knew.

It hadn't been easy saying goodbye and there were days when she decidedly regretted leaving the Doctor and her life in the TARDIS. Long days spent pouring over her medical textbooks, only led to long nights when she would look up at the great expanse of sky over London and wonder what he was doing, what stars he was visiting, what planet he was saving, whether he was lonely.

Walking down the TARDIS' long back corridor, she started peeking in various rooms, trying to find some sign of the Doctor… not in the kitchen, not in the laboratory. Martha continued to wander the twisted hallways, methodically checking each room, her thoughts adrift. She really had made the right decision to leave the Doctor. She was rebuilding her life now, working for UNIT, helping people everyday… the same people she hadn't been able to help during the Year That Never Was. She felt needed and secure and… well content. Truly, it was a relief to know that there was life after the Doctor, and that she could be happy while not at his side. She still worried about him though, and sometimes the guilt she felt, leaving him all on his own, was almost too much to bear. She was so happy now and she only wanted the same for him.

The Doctor was not in the art gallery, wardrobe, library, or green house. Coming to the door she knew to be the Doctor's bedroom, Martha hesitated and then knocked. Hearing no answer, she slowly opened the door and poked her head in. She had never been in there before. At first glance the room was a complete mess but she realized, as she looked again, it appeared that there was some order to the chaos.

Gadgets, gizmos, and what looked like precisely placed piles of space junk (but were probably very important technological timey-wimey doodads) lay scattered across nearly all the furniture and the floor. A huge bookcase covered one entire wall, shelves carefully stacked with books reaching towards the ceiling, as far as the eye could see. From the doorway, she saw an oversized desk completely covered in papers, some of which had fallen and were strewn haphazardly across the floor. A somewhat battered looking lounger sat off in one corner next to an end table painted in an appalling shade of green. The place smelled like him; like tea, cinnamon, the air before a thunderstorm... and maybe just the faintest hint of old leather.

Martha stepped through the doorway and into the room, "Doctor?" she said weakly knowing that he wasn't in there, curiosity pulling her forward anyway. She paused for a moment just inside the door, feeling guilty about invading his privacy. A terrifying image of the Doctor popped unbidden into her head. His brown eyes would be blazing, his voice would be terrible and low, he would point the sonic screwdriver at her face, and then he would threaten to feed her to the Giant Snake Queen of Anvicore for snooping around in his bedroom.

She shook her head. That wasn't going to happen. He would never feed her to the Giant Snake Queen of Anvicore, mainly because she was not going to be caught. Besides, the TARDIS had been her home for nearly a year and wasn't if he had ever particularly said to her, 'Martha Jones stay out of my bedroom or I will be very angry.' No, he had never said that. She knew that these were rather weak excuses…

The Doctor's bed was huge and the only thing in the room that looked untouched, sheets, blankets, and pillows, smooth and pulled tight. There were several other interesting and eclectic pieces of furniture in the room but an ornately carved chest of drawers, the top of which looked to be suspiciously free of clutter, caught her attention. She gravitated towards it.

Only three things lay atop the dresser, a marked change from the disorder that inhabited the rest of the room. The first was an old silver fob watch, its weathered face engraved with precise circles and angry looking slashes. Martha took a tiny step back as she recognized it, a shiver running down her spine. It was the Master's. It had been the Master's.

Martha looked at the watch as memories that she had tried to forget bubbling back up to the surface, heart thumping painfully in her chest. She remembered when she first seen that watch, held in Professor Yana's calloused hand. His black eyes had glittered so strangely when he looked at it, truly looked at it, for the first time as the perception filter faded away… and then everything had fallen apart. Her family had been captured, turned into slaves, the whole world, the whole universe had nearly been destroyed, and she had had to wander the Earth, alone and afraid.

Very suddenly, she was angry. She was angry with him, really really angry with him. He had kept the Master's watch, even after everything that had happened, even after everything that had not happened. They had all suffered, her family, Jack, the entire Earth decimated, brought to heel, and the Doctor had kept the Master's watch. He had kept the Master's watch, and yet he had not asked her to stay with him.

Martha kept her eyes locked on the tarnished timepiece, remembering that horrible scene that had happened so recently. The Doctor cradling the Master's body, imploring, breaking his hearts, begging him to regenerate…

She let the anger fill her up, until there was a pleasant burning behind her eyes and her hands were tight fists at her sides, fingernails cutting into her palms. And then she let it go, in one great whoosh of breath she let it fade, because it was the only option really. She couldn't stay angry with the Doctor, not after everything that they had been through together, not after everything that she had seen him do. She believed in the Doctor, loved him, maybe not as blindly as she once had, but her belief persisted.

She just wasn't sure if she loved him or pitied him more.

Martha sighed, anger fading, and looked past the watch, to the other two objects.

Two delicate glass spheres sat next to each other on top of the dresser. She studied them for a moment trying to work out how they stayed put, why they hadn't rolled right off the dresser and shattered on the floor. One orb was a beautiful shell pink tinged with gold; the other was smaller and darker, burnt orange in color as if its surface had been dipped in fire and then doused in smoke.

Hesitantly Martha picked up the smaller of the spheres; it was chill to the touch, a ball of ice. Smokey spirals of orange, red, and yellow moved sluggishly across its surface like strange weather patterns. It was as if she were cradling a tiny planet in her palm. She was about to put it back on top of the dresser when the globe gave a little shudder, nearly causing her to drop the sphere in surprise.

"What was that then?" Martha muttered, looking a little more closely at the globe. "Oh," she breathed as she saw a little indent on one side. Rearranging her fingers she gently pressed inwards and nearly dropped the sphere again as a very clear image sprang up in front of her.

It was a planet… a beautiful planet, yellow orange and glowing in the light of an invisible sun.

Gallifrey. It had to be Gallifrey.

The image spun slowly before her and Martha watched captivated for a few seconds as little jets of light swirled around the planet shooting in and out of the atmosphere. TARDIS' maybe? Martha's eyes widened as the globe heated up in her palm. Simultaneously the planet in front of her blazed brighter for an instant and then suddenly collapsed in on itself, disappearing. There had been no sound, no warning, just a brief flash of heat and light and the image had vanished, erased from the space in front of her. Was that how it had been? Had Gallifrey's destruction been so quick and painless? Somehow, she very much doubted it.

Martha sat the orange orb back down on the dresser and hardly wavered before she picked up the larger light pink sphere. It was already warm unlike the other sphere, which had originally been cold as ice. The glove was smooth and utterly captivating, shades of pink and gold swirling lazily across its exterior. Fumbling a little, doctor's fingers suddenly clumsy, she found and pressed the indent on the side, trying not to be surprised when another image materialized in front of her.

It was a girl, life size and semi-transparent. The girl was sitting on what looked like the balustrade surrounding the TARDIS console, one side of her face lit with the light from the console, the other side falling into dim shadow. She was young, not much past twenty. Her bleached blonde hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, her body perched comfortably on the railing. Her face was round and soft, she wore too much eye makeup, her mouth was too big, her eyebrows too dark... she was beautiful.

Rose.

Of course, this was Rose.

Martha cringed as an old burning jealousy rose up in her chest, and she swallowed hard, choking it back.

The Doctor's Rose. Jack's Rose. Perfect Rose.

After she left the TARDIS Martha had done some research. She had wanted to know more about Rose, especially after overhearing the Doctor's and Jack's conversation on Malcassiro, after hearing the pain in the Doctor's voice. Martha had dug deep but hadn't found much; just a few old school records (not very impressive), a mention of her place of employment blowing up (some sort of shop), and then her name on the list of casualties at the battle of Canary Wharf. There had only been one picture, a random candid of a somewhat sullen looking teenager leaning against a crumbling brick wall, staring moodily into space, wearing a pink zip up and a pair of ripped jeans… and that was Rose.

Rose, who had always known exactly the right thing to say. Rose, who had swallowed the entire Time Vortex (not that Martha knew exactly what that entailed). Rose, who had made Jack immortal and destroyed an army of Daleks. Rose who had probably done one thousand and one other things that were great and fantastic… but Martha had decided long ago that it was useless being jealous of Rose, useless envying a woman who no longer existed.

Martha shook her head and pressed the button again expecting the image to vanish. The image didn't disappear, instead it came to life.

The hologram shifted in front of her and became opaque. The girl, Rose, balancing easily on the railing swung her feet, drumming them against hard metal, her eyes watching the repetitive movement of her trainers. She looked up from the swinging rhythm of her feet, past where Martha was standing to ask, "Doctor, what're you doing?"

Martha cringed and swung towards the doorway, half expecting the Doctor to have appeared behind her, but the doorway was empty and she turned her gaze back towards the image in front of her, feeling slightly stupid and more than a little guilty.

"Hmmm, oh I'm trying to fix the holographic recorder, snapped a few wires during that last landing... bit bumpy... TARDIS indigestion..." said the Doctor's voice muffled voice and Martha's mind conjured up an image of him stuck up under the console, only the cuffs of his brown trousers and white trainers showing.

"Oh," said Rose and returned to banging her feet against the TARDIS railing, but this time Martha noticed her brow was furrowed just a little, her warm brown eyes slightly darker and more concentrated, as if she were looking at something inside of herself.

"Doctor," the girl said again, her voice a little softer, a little more hesitant, eyes fixed on some point that Martha couldn't see. "That last planet... that Thing..." Something fizzed and crackled in the background cutting her off. Rose snapped her head up and the image shook, became a little fuzzy, and then became clear again.

"I think that's done it," the Doctor's voice called triumphantly. Martha could hear him crawling out from underneath the console.

Suddenly the Doctor appeared in the picture, white shirt rumpled and glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. Martha blinked in shock. It was the same Doctor of course, her Doctor still, with the same tousled hair, same light dusting of freckles across the nose, long fingered hands, gangly limbs, everything the same... except... The man standing, projected, in front of her… was lighter somehow, more buoyant, his dark eyes bright instead of brooding.

Martha's Doctor, the Doctor she had travelled with, fallen in love with… well – he always had a shadow hanging over him, an ache in his voice. Oh, of course, there were times when he was joking or bouncing about or in the midst of a particularly good mystery that the shadow lessened, the timbre of his voice changed, but it was never for long. The haunted look always returned to his eyes, the shadows always crept back into his voice.

But in this image of the Doctor that shadow, the dark somber almost angry attitude, was gone, completely dissipated, as if he bathed in a constant light.

Stepping forward just a fraction Martha reached out a hand to the Doctor's face and tried not to be disappointed when her hand passed right through him. She stepped back, resigned to being an observer.

The image of the Doctor leaned casually against the railing next to Rose, the index finger of his right hand in his mouth.

"Singed my finger again," he mumbled.

"Baby," teased Rose catching her bottom lip between her teeth and giving him a half grin.

The pair relaxed together; Rose perched, legs swinging, the Doctor lounging, nursing his finger, their bodies leaning slightly toward each other as if gravity was trying to pull them together.

Then the Doctor took his slobbery finger out of his mouth, grinned, and wiped it on Rose's jeans.

"Oi!" cried the blonde glaring at the Doctor and giving him a little shove, "That's disgusting!"

The Doctor just grinned at her and bumped her shoulder with his.

Rose tried to look mad, flinging a hand at him, "You! You're being rude. You're being rude again!"

"Still not ginger," the Doctor beamed, and then pouted a little while holding up a lock of his hair.

A huge smile blossomed on Rose's face and Martha, caught up in the moment, felt herself smiling as she looked at the grinning duo.

"Git," Rose said warmly, "I'll get you back for it later."

The Doctor nodded amicably, still grinning, as if that had been part of his plan all along.

Rose leaned in farther towards the Doctor, their sides touching, a stray strand of blonde hair falling across the Doctor's shoulder. The grin slowly faded from the her face, replaced by the look of concentration that Martha had seen earlier. After a few seconds, she said softly, "Doctor, what was down there... what was down there in that Pit?"

Some of the color drained from the Doctor's features, an ominous shadow falling across his face.

Rose waited silently for his answer, legs still, arm pressed up against the Doctor's side.

"Rose, I already told you. There was nothing there. Just drawings, more of the writing. Whatever had been down there had already escaped, fled into the Ood and Toby... and then I found the TARDIS." Martha could hear the lie in the Doctor's overly chipper voice and she could tell that Rose had too.

Silence reigned.

"Scarier than a mortgage then," Rose said firmly giving her legs a little kick and looking at the Doctor out of the corner of her eye, biting her bottom lip again.

The Doctor looked at Rose sideways, raising an eyebrow, "Nothing, is scarier than a mortgage," he said his mouth twitching up a little.

Rose smiled a little and then looked away. "It said I was gonna die," she whispered softly, her voice so low that Martha could barely hear it.

Anger darted across the Doctor's face, anger so hard and old that even Martha, who was merely an observer, was a little afraid.

"It lied, Rose." His voice was hard and defiant. "It was lying. Whatever that Thing was we beat it." He paused and turned to her. Abruptly all the anger and the ice melted from his voice replaced by just a trace of longing, a glimpse of need. "Isn't that enough?"

The girl took her eyes off the grated floor and looked at the Doctor whose gaze was locked onto her now, dark eyes hard and suspiciously bright. Sliding down from the railing, she turned and leaned fully into the Doctor. Martha watched as the Doctor wrapped his arms around the girl, resting his chin on top of her head, eyes caught on some far away point, face dark and so much in shadow that Martha couldn't make out his expression.

"Everything dies," Rose murmured quietly into his chest and Martha knew that she wasn't speaking of some violent threat or cataclysm to come… she was simply voicing her humanity, her fragility, her inevitable mortality.

Martha's heart twisted a little in her chest as the Doctor held the image of Rose just a little tighter his hands fisted into her blue t-shirt.

"I'm not afraid," Rose said gently. Underneath her words was something deeper and more resonant than Martha had heard in her voice before, something almost wild, feral, powerful. Turned towards the full light of the TARDIS console, her face, her hair, her eyes were all glowing golden. She shone like a star.

The two images split, taking a step backwards from each other, the heavy moment spiraling apart. Martha shook herself a little. She was only watching holograms, but everything felt so real, burned true, as if she was there with them in this moment instead of watching a recorded image.

Martha watched as Rose pressed her hand, so tenderly, to the Doctor's face and the Doctor in return turned his head and, gently, kissed her palm.

The Doctor broke away from Rose completely, leaning back against the railing. His face, still shadowed, was wholly unreadable.

Rose turned away for a moment, her back to whatever was recording the image, and then jumped back up on the railing, bumping shoulders with the Doctor. "Don't worry, Doctor, I promised you forever and forever is just what you're gonna get," Rose said, cheekily, her tongue sticking between her teeth. "No getting rid of me now."

The Doctor remained silent, but a ghost of a smile slid across his features. Rose took the Doctor's hand in her own, lacing their fingers together, all the while still banging her feet cheerfully against the TARDIS' railing. For a moment the two leaned there together, resting against each other, their hands securely intertwined. Then, peculiarly, Rose put the tip of one finger in her mouth and very abruptly stuck it in the Doctor's ear, giving it a good squishy wiggle.

"Eeewwwwew!" the Doctor howled, drawing out the syllable high and low, bouncing up and down, covering his offended ear, "Now who's disgusting! That was foul, Rose Tyler, absolutely foul! I'll get you back for that!"

Rose shrugged, grinning as if that had been her plan all along. "So where are we anyway? Do you think there's gonna be an invading army to divert or an evil dictator to thwart?" the blonde asked affably jumping lightly down from the railing.

"Don't know, could be both. That's the joy of travel." said the Doctor, beaming, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers towards the girl. "Let's find out."

"Well I hope they have chips," Rose said flashing her magnificent grin. "Come on then, into the void!" she cried grabbing the Doctor's hand and pulling him towards the TARDIS door.

The image cut out and Martha weakly put the globe back on the dresser.

So that was Rose. It was an odd feeling finally coming face to face with the woman whose ghost haunted the TARDIS just as surely as if she was dead. Martha recalled what the Doctor had said to Jack about Rose. He had said that she was trapped in a parallel universe; he had said that the walls had closed. Rose wasn't coming back. The Doctor had lost Rose as thoroughly as he had lost Gallifrey, and as surely as he had lost the Master.

Why did he hang onto these things, three cruel reminders of what he had lost? He must have gotten the watch from the Valiant before they left. The two globes appeared to be holograms that he had taken from the TARDIS' memories and transferred into physical reminders; three brutal memories of what the universe had ripped from him; his people, his home, and his love.

She set the globe carefully on the dresser and walked out of the Doctor's room, softly shutting the door behind her. She wasn't sure what to do now. Her thoughts were scattered, confused as she walked down the TARDIS' hallway.

Again, Martha could not distinguish her love for the Doctor from her pity for him, her longing to help him, heal him. She suspected that the only woman who could do that was trapped a universe away.

"Martha Jones!"

Martha jumped a little and steadied herself, her heart racing. Turning she saw the Doctor bouncing jauntily down the TARDIS hallway, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets. "Doctor!" she exclaimed, her voice just a little too loud, "I saw the TARDIS parked outside my flat."

"I know!" crowed the Doctor, leaning forward on his toes, grin plastered across his face. "I parked it there!"

Martha rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon, what are you doing here?" she asked, trying not to look for the man she had seen with Rose, the happier, brighter Doctor.

"Ohhhh, well, I picked up a few odd readings and I thought that I would just pop in to do a little investigating, do a little sleuthing, take a few measurements, that kind of thing," said the Doctor twisting side to side. The man never stood still.

"What kind of readings?" asked Martha, faintly concerned. She hadn't worn her trainers today and didn't know if her heels would be able to stand up under the strain of a prolonged flight for her life.

"Oh, nothing really, just a few minor fluctuations in the fabric of space and time. Something to do with that new Adipose drug that's just hit the market maybe," shrugged the Doctor, running a hand though his already disheveled hair.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, well, and I thought you might like to take me out to lunch." The Doctor's grin doubled in size.

Martha laughed and looped her arm though the Doctor's. "Alright you lonely beggar, there's a new pub opened right round the corner that I wanted to try out."

"Excellent," the Doctor said, patting his stomach in anticipation. "What's it called?"

"Oh," said Martha searching her memory for the name of the place as they walked down the TARDIS hallway through the console room. "That's funny. I can't remember."

The Doctor grinned and gave Martha's head a firm rap with his knuckles. "Too much studying, give your mind a cramp?"

"Oh no, I know what's it called! It's called 'The Bad Wolf', bit of an odd name for a pub, but I hear the food's fantastic." Pleased to have remembered, she pulled the Doctor forward and out the TARDIS' door.


End file.
